Get to me
by Mariss95
Summary: They seem to be drawn to each other, neither willing to walk away. The problem being she has no idea how he is.


Hi! This is a response to the following prompt sent at tumblr:

"_Felicity seems to be a magnet for the Arrow. He's saved her life an embarrassing amount of times and in return she helps him with the tech side of his Vigilante-ing. Each encounter brings them closer together and it's possible that she has a little, teeny-tiny crush on the masked hero. And sometimes she thinks maybe it's not completely one-sided. There's just one problem, she has no clue who the hell this guy is!"_

What started as a short drabble became this one-shot.

Some things to know before reading:

- In this AU _**Diggle doesn't exist**_ (not because I dislike him, but it was needed for the story to work… you'll see why)

- i know it starts pretty dark but I promise it gets lighter and funnier as it goes on.

- It _doesn't_ contain spoilers

Also, please know that I read and value all of your comments (also alerts and favorites). Sometimes some of you are even kind enough to correct a spelling mistake I overlooked, and I deeply apreciate it! Others ask for more chapters. As I state, these drabbles are inspired by tumblr prompts and they are meant to be stand-alone pieces; otherwise I would say they are in progress instead of completed. So I normally won't continue them. BUT If I feel inspired and get an idea I may write more of one of them, which has been requested a lot so far, and kindda had an open ending. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I love reading your comments and clarify some things :)

Enjoy!

* * *

**GET TO ME**

_It was a Wednesday. _

She had been walking home from work, her car being in the garage. One hand held an umbrella over her head, rain pouring furiously against it, the other clutched at her coat, trying to keep herself warm. Between the uproar of the storm and the hurried clacking of her heels on the pavement, she failed to hear the three men that approached her from behind.

One grabbed her arm and pulled her backwards, her head hitting the pavement hard. Her glasses were gone but she could make up three figures that roamed over her. One tugged at her purse, the one she still held in a tight grip against her side. A second shadow hovered above her and roughly pulled her arm away, the purse now lying forgotten on the floor. A third one just stood by the side, laughing loudly, rather enjoying the show. As the first man went through her stuff the other two pondered what to do next. She swallowed nervously, expecting the worse.

She considered standing up and putting somewhat of a fight, but her head throbbed in pain and she feared of injuring herself further. Also, with some luck she could get in a few good punches, but they were far too many and too strong for her to break free. So she lay there and saw as the third one hovered over her, his throaty laugh still ringing in her ears. She shut her eyes tightly, expecting his touch.

That's when she heard _him_. Or most accurately a swooshing sound followed by a thud and a strangled cry for help. Before she could react the three bodies of her attackers lay on the ground beside her. Then a towering figure came into her line of vision, but unlike before this time she wasn't scared. The vigilante kneeled at her side, his hand lightly cupping her face. She tried to trace his features with her eyes, but it was too blurry between the pouring rain and the absence of her glasses. He pulled away, bringing his gloved hand to his face. She tried to reach out to him, maybe lay her hand on his leg to call his attention, but she felt weak. Her mouth even opened and closed a few times, but no sound came out. She started feeling hazy, her sight worsening as she came back from the adrenaline rush. Before she lost consciousness she felt him lifting her from the ground. Then it all faded to black.

When she woke up the next morning she was on her bed. She looked down warily at the pajamas she was wearing. If it wasn't for the searing pain that steamed from the back of her head she would've thought it was all a dream. Then her eyes dropped to the chair by her bedroom window where her wet clothes laid in a heap. He had been in her room, tucked her in and… stitched her forehead? Her fingers traced the small cut there as she looked around her room. A smile playing on her lips as her eyes fell on her bedside table, where her glasses laid.

She darted to the living room and, after downing a few pain pills, opened her laptop and searched away. She had to know who he was, if only to thank him for saving her favorite pair of glasses.

* * *

_The next time it happened was a Friday. _

She was at a Queen Consolidated gala when a group of thugs walked in, cutting the power and shooting at the ceiling. Everyone dropped to the ground terrified. Only a few minutes passed, as the crooks begun to roughen up a few executives, when the first arrow cut though the air, hitting a target. Dumbfounded the other men begun shooting around, the vigilante swiftly evading every shot.

Her eyes were glued to his every move, suddenly feeling thrilled being in his presence again. That's when she felt a hand sneaking around her waist, tugging her backwards until her back was flushed against the thug's front, his gun firmly planted against her temple. She sucked in a breath and the man shushed her from behind, too close for comfort.

When the vigilante saw them he froze, arrow in his bow ready to shoot. The man behind her was the only one that remained.

She locked eyes with her hooded hero and nodded slightly, granting him permission. Her eyes fluttered shut as he released his hold, the weight against her back and forehead disappearing instantly. She gasped and fell forward; the vigilante was at her side in a flash.

"You alright?" he asked, voice tainted with… concern? Their eyes locked and she nodded not really trusting her voice at the moment. She laid a hand on his arm and saw him wince. Blood.

"You've been shot" she said, her voice hoarse. She cleared her throat as he looked around, the police already entering the scene. "Let me help you" she whispered, knowing he would be gone any second now. He speared her one more look and ran away.

Three hours later she walked into her apartment, feeling deflated after the hostage situation and the drilling interrogation. Still what bothered her the most was that the cops seemed more interested in details of the vigilante than in what had gone down with the robbers. She tried turning the lights on and frowned when the room remained dark. Then a shadowy figure appeared before her.

"God! You scared me" she shrieked as she recognized him. He simply looked away, head hanging low. "I'm sorry" he countered and looked her way.

"It's ok. I was just thinking about you actually." At his raised eyebrow she went on "Not that I think about you a lot. I mean I do, sometimes… the normal amount of time, especially for someone who has the habit of saving my life. But I'm not some stalker with a weird arrow fetish or anything like that, just so you know. Though I know there are… way too many if you ask me".

"Felicity" he said, amused at her antics, but needing her to focus.

"Whoah. How do you know my name?"

He grunted. It seemed like his word to mouth filter was failing as well. He expected her to be angry, or scared. Yet Felicity always managed to surprise him.

"That's not fair. I don't know yours" she quipped. "Actually I don't know anything about you, at least not anything that matters, because what's said on the papers or by the police isn't really true; I know that much." He just stood there staring at her. She was something else.

"I may not be an expert, but I do know how to use the internet" he countered, a smile on his face.

"You googled me?" she said, fighting a smile. The fact he knew who she was and what she did for a living flattered her.

He interrupted her train of thought by grunting in pain, his hand coming to hold his shoulder.

"You're hurt. Right." Felicity hesitantly took a step forward, afraid of scaring him away. He looked at her from behind his hood and nodded slightly, unzipping his jacket. She reached his side, helped him pull the harmed arm from the jacket and sat him down. Then she came back with her medicine kit and went to work. He remained silent; the only response to the needle going through his shoulder being his tightened jaw. She sneaked in a glance or two to his face, but, in the dim light of her apartment and with the hood darkening most of it, could only make out a few of his handsome features. If only she could take a closer look at his eyes, smeared paint around them.

"Done"

He stood up and turned around, putting his jacket back on. He was fastening his quiver on his back when she called him up.

"I could work with you" He turned around and faced her, his brow furrowing. "Or for you, I mean", she mumbled. "Your scars… you seem to get hurt a lot. You can come to me if you want. Maybe I could give you a hand with those or other things. As you know I'm pretty handy with computers too" she finished, approaching him cautiously. He hesitated, she could see the struggle in his eyes.

"Alright" he gave in. "I could use some help in the hacking department."

She smiled brightly. "Great. Code-breaker is my middle name. Actually, it's Meghan."

He chuckled. She really was something else. Before she could question him further he stated a name: Aaron Holstaid.

"Got it" she quipped and looked around to find her laptop. "So… how does this work? Do you have a cell phone or should I just… shine a light through my window?" He smiled again, well-aware that he hadn't done it nearly as much before meeting Felicity. He grabbed her phone from a nearby table and logged in his number. Then he stalked towards her and placed it in her hand.

"Thank you" he said, gratitude clear on his voice.

"Anytime" she answered. They lingered in silence, both wanting more but afraid of reaching for it. With one final look he walked away into the night.

* * *

He held onto his promise. Almost every week he would text her a name, sometimes he came by, dropping a sample he needed analyzed or a wrecked laptop to recover information from. At first he simply left them on her desk while she was away or sleeping, said token being the only proof of his visit. Then he started to appear before her; primarily so she could heal his wounds then simply because he wanted to see her. Sure, he didn't share that much, but she could tell. For a masked vigilante he was terrible at excuses, and she was more than happy to have him around.

Sometimes she even got in trouble, going on the field with him, needing to hack the target from inside their offices. He had saved her more times that either of them cared to count. Then again she was constantly saving him in her own way.

Every time they met she would try to get him to reveal a little more of himself, itching to know the man behind the hood. And he did reveal himself, but it was always through small details, like stories behind his tattoos or scars; at times he shared how he had trained. One time he tried to teach her to shoot his bow. Mostly she would ask and he'd answer what he could, like why he wore face paint. The following week she gave him a mask. A Christmas present, she had called it.

Before long he became the highlight of her life. And she wasn't so far behind in his.

Oliver knew he should walk away; forget about the blonde woman who had taken over his thoughts. After all, his main goal was crossing down names on his father's list. Yet he kept finding excuses to go to her: to trace down some weapons, then to hack into softwares far too complicated for his skill-set. There was something about her that drew him in. Now he was in too deep to walk away.

* * *

_The third time it happened she was kinda asking for it. _

It was a Saturday night and she had sneaked into Queen Consolidated. Granted, she worked there, but that night she was on an arrow mission –that's what he liked to be called, he had confined to her one late night–. When they had a particularly tough target she had to use the office's computers to get the job done. So there she was, ready to sneak back out when a man appeared at her door, blocking the exit. She eyed him carefully: dressed all in black, a crowbar in his hand. Then her eyes wandered behind him, where a security guard lay unconscious on the floor.

"Oh no" she muttered.

Before the man could move towards her the arrow aimed at him and shot. Still the perp had killer reflexes and ducked down. Then the two men collided. The arrow struggled to knock him down as the man towered over him. Felicity could only stand in shock as the arrow's hood got pulled backwards during the fight. When the perp laid unconscious –yet alive– at his feet the arrow stood and faced her, a terrified look on his face. She gaped at him, speechless for a whole minute before she could recover her voice.

"Oh my god… you're Oliver Queen. _The_ Oliver Queen. Castaway, billionaire, playboy Oliver Queen!" she yelled.

"Felicity. It would be best not to throw my name around. Not right now", he said, hinting at the beat up man lying on the floor between them.

"Right. But you have so much explaining to do when we get out of here" she retorted.

He huffed in response and, taking her arm, led her outside. She followed in silence, mind full of questions, until one burst out.

"Wait, how did you find me?" He could pinpoint the exact moment she came up with the right answer.

"You bugged my phone?" she hissed, clearly annoyed. He smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

They jumped on his bike, her arms tightening around him as he sped away towards the foundry. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

_Thanks for Reading!_ Hope you liked it! If so, please comment or something and make my day :)


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